Meowsical Death: A Hazel Hart Cozy Mystery Two Read online

  As soon as he got back to Cedar Valley, he’d disappear into some wilderness region to snap as many pictures as he possibly could. And Mount Rose was one of his favorites, besides the lake basin itself.

  The bell that sounded the start of school rang, and Hazel settled in to get to work. Her mother flitted off to help in Ruth’s classroom and Hazel sighed. Hopefully, that would keep her away from Mrs. Martin for the rest of the day. She didn’t need to have a showdown with the woman in front of a group of spectators. That would be worse than them going at it one-on-one.

  Each grade was slated to have their picture taken at a different time during the day, and the youngest children were first.

  It went smoothly, for the most part. None of the kids threw up when she was taking their pictures, an anecdote she’d heard a few times.

  Both she and Michael manned a camera to make the work more efficient. And Hazel had insisted he bring a few of the cute stuffed animals from her studio on Lake Street to get the shy kids to smile.

  If the stuffed animals didn’t work, Anthony Ray usually did.

  Hazel warned the children to be careful when approaching him. He’d never lashed out at anyone before, but he didn’t want to have his ears or tail pulled either. He submitted to being petted by a number of different brave children, but always ended up bathing himself afterward.

  It wasn’t until after lunch that the fourth-graders got their turn. When Ruth popped on the stool in front of Hazel’s lens, she smiled at her niece.

  “I want to hold Anthony Ray in the picture, please,” she begged.

  Hazel shook her head. “If I let you hold Anthony Ray, everyone will want to hold him, and it will be pandemonium. I’ll take a picture of you at home with him, promise.”

  Ruth pouted, but nodded and tucked her chin-length hair behind her ears. It was the same coppery red as Hazel’s own, and an inch shorter than Hazel’s bob as well. But like Esther, Ruth’s hair was straight while Hazel’s was curly.

  Ruth smiled without provocation while Hazel snapped two pictures, as she did for each of the children, and let her niece move on.

  Toward the end of the day, it was the extracurricular teachers turn to have their pictures taken.

  Hazel wondered how she’d managed to make it with only a quick thirty-minute break for lunch, and few bathroom breaks for both herself and Anthony Ray. Michael looked equally exhausted, as the short line of teachers approached.

  Leading the pack was Roberta Martin. Her face was twisted into a skeletal scowl and she carried her violin case with her. Hazel remembered how she used to play for them when she was in the woman’s music class. It was haunting and beautiful, though, she had to admit, also a little boring for a child.

  The P.E. instructor settled on Michael’s stool, so Roberta was left looking at Hazel’s. “I suppose, if I must. I insist upon having the violin in the shot. Otherwise, no one will know my specialty,” she said haughtily and neared the stool.

  Anthony Ray, his leash still bound to the table, wandered close, like he had the entire day. But Roberta Martin didn’t react the same way the children did with delighted giggles.

  She screamed.

  “What is that horrific creature doing in the school? Get it away.”

  Hazel blinked, and Anthony Ray raised his back and fluffed out his tail. He looked like a cat in a piece of Halloween art, and Hazel swallowed back the desire to laugh.

  “This is a place of business, Hazel. I wasn’t sure you could be more unprofessional than your mother, but it looks like you proved me wrong. I will not have my picture taken with that creature close by. What sort of shenanigans are these?” she huffed and marched back toward the cafeteria doors.

  Hazel watched her go with a frown, and was startled when a short, middle-aged woman grabbed her arm and squeezed. “It’s all right. She’s always like that. But I’ll have a talk with Mrs. Jeffries and smooth everything over. I’m the computer teacher, and I think I’m your last one for the day.”

  Hazel nodded absently and forced a smile. The woman sat down on the stool, and Hazel heard herself say ‘smile’ and clicked two pleasing photos before they were able to pack up the equipment and get ready to leave.

  When they were almost done, the principal bustled over. She was nearly as tall as Hazel herself, who stood at five feet nine, though this woman wore high-heeled boots and a gray power suit with a stunning red blouse underneath. She was headed toward middle age, but still youthful, though quite severe around the eyes. Her hair was an ashy blonde, cut short.

  “Ms. Hart, I heard about Mrs. Martin’s outburst, and it’s not your fault. I had no idea she had a problem with cats, and if I did, I would have warned you about it. Honestly, sometimes I think she does things like this on purpose,” she said, dropping her voice as if the cafeteria was crowded.

  Hazel finished packing up the last camera.

  Michael had already taken most of the equipment out to his car or her truck, and she wanted to be driving away before school let out and they got trapped behind a line of buses.

  “You can give her my deepest apologies,” Hazel said and zipped up her bag.

  The principal gave her a tight smile. “I will. And if you wouldn’t mind, Roberta said she would very much like her picture taken, but not in the presence of your cat. So, if you could come by early tomorrow morning? She’s usually the first to arrive. And she said she’d rather get it done in the morning than the afternoon. I know it’s a bit of a hassle to come out again, but—”

  Hazel forced a smile and thought of the stories her father told her about working in the Sears portrait studio. This was nothing compared to that. The school was her client, and if she had to bend a little to make them happy, she’d do it.

  “How early? I have someone coming in at nine a.m. tomorrow morning, but I could be here before then.”

  The principal let out a sigh of relief. “I know she’s usually here by seven, and I don’t even get in until seven-thirty, so anytime around then would be good. Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to tell the other schools how wonderful you are,” she said with a smile before turning away.

  Anthony Ray let out a meow and it turned into a yawn.

  Hazel unwrapped his leash from the table. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  And the idea of getting up early to photograph Roberta Martin made it worse.

  Chapter 3

  The sun dipped toward the icy waters of Lake Celeste by the time Hazel pulled next to the coffee shop that afternoon. While the days grew longer, being so high in the mountains meant the sun still seemed to set well before she was ready for it.

  CATfeinated wasn’t crowded so close to four p.m, and Celia bustled about with so much energy that Hazel glared, good-naturedly, at her best friend.

  Celia’s face lit up with a sunny smile when she noticed Hazel step through the door. Anthony Ray pranced in front of her, and Ophelia walked up to meet him. They were well acquainted and gave each other a gentle sniff around the nose before sitting close and both beginning to preen.

  “How was your first day back at school?” Celia said and started fiddling with something behind the counter.

  Hazel tucked her fuzzy copper curls behind her ears. Celia’s own dark brown curls were perfectly defined, like usual, and she looked as bright and pretty as she did first thing in the morning.

  How she managed it, Hazel had no idea.

  Hazel leaned against the counter. “Not terrible. Busy, and my mom had a fight with Roberta Martin in the teacher’s lounge.”

  The few patrons inside the café were tucked at their own tables and either tapping away at computers to utilize the free Wi-Fi or absorbed in their own conversations.

  “Yikes. Mrs. Martin was a mean old biddy, but I’ve never understood what your mom has against her,” Celia said and pushed a mug of tea across the counter into Hazel’s gloved hands.

  It smelled heavily of peppermint, and Hazel sucked in the delightful scent, gratefully wrapping her hands arou
nd it. “Me neither. But my dad’s coming home tomorrow so I’ll probably get a chance to ask him.”

  A strained smile pulled a Celia’s lips. “What’s that, the second time this year?”

  Hazel shrugged. “You sound like Esther. Yeah, he’s had a really busy year, but he’s off for a few months, so that’s good.”

  Celia nodded and busied herself wiping down the counter. “How does Esther feel about it?”

  Hazel snorted. “I don’t think she ever wants him to come home. But she also knows that Ruth loves her grandpa, and she’s not about to hold that against her own daughter.”

  Hazel wasn’t about to make any excuses for her father to Celia. It wouldn’t make any difference, either way. Same with Esther.

  “At least you got it over with for the year. Only nine more schools to go,” Celia said.

  Hazel groaned. “Yeah, but that’s not the worst part. Mrs. Martin apparently dislikes cats enough that she wouldn’t even have her picture taken since Anthony Ray happened to be present. So, I have to show up at school at seven a.m. for her,” Hazel said and pouted.

  Celia gave her a sympathetic smile. “Ouch. Wait, don’t you have an early appointment tomorrow too?”

  Hazel nodded. “Yes, which is why I stopped by to make sure my standing order was ready at about six-forty, if possible.” She slowly sipped her tea. The bright taste of peppermint woke up her senses better than coffee that time of day.

  Celia leaned forward. “Can do, and good luck. I take it you’re not bringing Anthony Ray tomorrow?” she asked and looked at him nuzzling Ophelia.

  Ophelia was Celia’s own white Persian, and she ruled the coffee shop the way Anthony Ray ruled the Wild @ Hart photo studio.

  “I’ll drop him off at the studio first thing and lock him in my office so Michael doesn’t have to put up with him. He’s terrified because they got off on the wrong foot,” Hazel said with a slight smile.

  Celia raised her eyebrows. “Boys. Oh, look what came today,” she said and pointed at a stack of flyers on the counter.

  Hazel had already seen several of them hanging in shop windows around town, so she wasn’t terribly surprised by them, but still the stack looked to hold about five-hundred flyers. Which, for a town of only a thousand year-round residents, seemed excessive.

  A smiling face stared out of the flyer. It’d been heavily Photoshopped, but Hazel wasn’t sure if it was only her professional eye that caught it, or if everyone could see it. The man looked to be in his mid-to late-thirties, and he was startlingly pretty. Not handsome, like Sheriff Cross, but beautiful.

  His hair was blond and long, brushing his shoulders, and he stared into the camera with an intensity that bordered on ridiculous. A violin was tucked under his chin, and his fingers held the neck loosely.

  The flyer read: Ambrose Angel. Violin virtuoso in concert. One night only. Cedar Valley Theatre.

  ‘Theater’ had been spelled the British way, and Hazel raised her eyebrows.

  “And that’s my client for tomorrow. Wonder if he wants to update this picture or not,” she said and looked at his smooth line free face.

  “He looks like one of the Children of the Damned all grown-up,” Celia said and wrinkled her nose.

  Hazel snorted. “You’re right, but I wouldn’t say that to his face. Are you going to the concert? I’ll bet Paul wants to take you.” Hazel took another sip of her tea.

  Celia shook her head and her curls tumbled around her shoulders. “That’s not the sort of thing Paul would like to do. He wants to take me ice fishing, and I’d rather sit in the theater, warm and comfortable, and watch this guy play violin for an hour.”

  “Okay, I take it back. You don’t have to give Paul a chance if he wants to take you ice fishing.”

  Celia shrugged. “Who knows. We’ll see how things turn out.”

  Well, that was a lot different than her old attitude which was: No—the guy who runs the kayak and ski shop next door is way too outdoorsy for me no matter how sweet and cute he is. At least she hadn’t mentioned her ex-boyfriend and current owner of the local bar, Jay Turner again.

  If so, Hazel had a right to worry.

  “Are you going to go with Sheriff Cross?” Celia asked as Hazel was taking her final sip.

  She swallowed too quickly and choked. “What?” she said and cough to clear her throat.

  Celia mouthed the word ‘sorry’ and got her a glass of water.

  Hazel shook her head and sipped it. “I really wish people would stop assuming things.”

  “You do have coffee with him sometimes. And the other day, you had breakfast together on the porch and it was cute,” Celia said.

  Hazel felt a pout pulling at her bottom lip and turned it into a grimace instead. “I’m not cute with him! We came in at the same time for breakfast. It was too early for Michael to open the shop, and I didn’t feel like shivering while it heated up, so I happened to sit on the porch with him. End of story.”

  A smile slid over Celia’s full lips. “And what was his excuse?”

  Hazel pushed the half-finished glass of water across the counter. “I have to get home. And I’m not discussing Sheriff Cross with anyone. We don’t have any sort of … anything!”

  Of course, when Hazel turned to leave, Sheriff Cross stood in the doorway. The cold March wind gusted up behind him, and Anthony Ray walked over to sniff his boots.

  He looked as handsome as ever, his black hair parted at the side and neatly brushed. His face clean-shaven and those blue eyes sharp and bright. They locked on Hazel and held her place. “Nice to see you, Ms. Hart,” he said, and the signature smirk he wore when they first met was nowhere to be found.

  Hazel straightened her shoulders and gathered Anthony Ray into her arms. “Sheriff. Have a lovely evening,” she said and hurried out.

  He didn’t follow, and Hazel wasn’t sure if she regretted that or not.

  It’s not as if she had anything to apologize for. Reading too much into their accidental breakfast meetings was something a schoolgirl would do—and a schoolgirl Hazel was not.

  Plus, she couldn’t deny that romantic entanglements seemed like a terrible idea after how badly things had ended with her ex-husband. So, it was all a silly misunderstanding. But that didn’t account for the strange tinge of guilt that filled her chest. As if she should turn around and apologize for something she hadn’t even done wrong.

  Hazel shook her head, climbed into her truck, and went home instead.

  Tomorrow was going to be another busy day.

  Chapter 4

  Hazel yawned for the hundredth time that morning. She’d already had one coffee, and in order to get through the rest of the day she’d need at least two more. Possibly three, depending on the workload.

  She already dropped Anthony Ray off at the studio and left written instructions for Michael to start editing the photos they’d taken of the students the day before and get them sent to the printer.

  That was the sort of busywork she dreaded, and the kind that she specifically hired an assistant for. Though, she wouldn’t have minded giving Michael this assignment either. Facing down Mrs. Martin for the second time in two days was not something Hazel looked forward to.

  Especially after only one cup of coffee.

  She brought a simplified set up compared to the one from the day before. Only one background screen—her lightest—and two lights. Plus, a reflecting screen.

  Though, she did have to bring one of her more expensive cameras. The Nikon.

  Without Michael, it would take two trips to set up, so she only carried the camera case and the rolled-up screen tucked under her arm as she approached the side door.

  The music room had an entrance to the outside, and since Mrs. Martin was the first to arrive, Hazel assumed that’s the door she would use.

  The cold air bit into her exposed cheeks, and she wished she could tug her hat down further over her ears. At least she thought to wear a scarf. The sun had hardly crested over the mountains to the e
ast, and though the sky was cloudless, that meant it was far from warm.

  She knocked three quick raps on the heavy metal door. “Mrs. Martin? It’s Hazel Hart for the photo.”

  No one answered.

  Hazel frowned. Did Mrs. Martin forget about their appointment? Or, more likely, she’d run to the teacher’s lounge or bathroom right as Hazel arrived. Well, she wasn’t about to stand out in the cold and wait for the woman to return. Who knew how long that might take?

  With a heavy sigh, Hazel tried the handle.

  It turned easily under her gloved hand, and she pushed it open.

  The first thing Hazel noticed was the lights were off. They were the typical overhead fluorescents that graced nearly every school she’d been to, and only one shone right over her head. The rest of the room was draped in heavy, brownish-black shadows.

  The room didn’t look like it had changed much since she’d been a student there which said a lot about Roberta Martin.

  The piano stood in the corner, a baby grand, and a number of other instruments leaned against the wall behind it. Though they were all in heavy cases, Hazel could still pick them out. The largest was a bass, and next to it a cello. There were a few woodwinds and brass instruments as well.

  However, the thing that took up the entire left-hand wall were the little wooden xylophone sets—the only instrument they were allowed to play besides their cheap plastic recorders, when she took Mrs. Martin’s music class. And the xylophones were by far more fun.

  “Mrs. Martin?” Hazel called.

  She wasn’t sure why she said it into the empty room when it was clear Mrs. Martin wasn’t there. Though perhaps it was to be polite. Getting any more of that woman’s ire aimed right at her felt distinctly uncomfortable considering what she was supposed to do.

  Still, an uneasiness settled over Hazel shoulders in the quiet room. The door was unlocked, the light was off and yet Mrs. Martin wasn’t there.

  Strange.

  At that point, Hazel had two choices. Either go back and retrieve the rest of her equipment or turn on the light and find Mrs. Martin. She went for option two. Though, she did set down her camera and background screen first.